100 Drabbles For An Old Challenge
by BuzzCat
Summary: This is for an old challenge that I came across. It looked like lots of fun. My pairing is Minerva/Albus. Let me know what you think! Rated for safety. Chapters can change depending on content.
1. Author's Note

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hi! It's me, Buzzy. This fic is for an old challenge called 100 Stories. My pairing is MMAD. I have taken certain liberties with it that you should be aware of. Such as messing with the time line. In some chapters, Minerva and Albus are about the same age. In others, Albus is Minerva's teacher. Also, the same event may occur multiple times. I'm just messing around. Feel free to flame. I'm dying for one, actually. Let me know what you think!


	2. Socks

_(A/N: Here's my take on this challenge. I hope to post more! Let me know what you think. Please please FLAME! I haven't ever gotten one, so this has led me to the naïve belief that fanfiction is a totally benevolent place. So how can I trust people saying my writing is good when that is all I hear? I need a smaller EGO people!)_

100 Stories Challenge #70- Socks

Minerva sat across from the Headmaster's chair. It was her first year, and school had only been going for 3 days, and already she had landed herself here. Minerva fidgeted in her seat, playing with a loose thread on her robes. Just then, there was the sound of the heavy door to the side opening. Minerva jumped and spun in her seat to see her deputy headmaster come out. He had a long auburn beard and hair, and his half moon spectacles were perched happily on his once-broken nose. His fluorescent orange robes clashed horribly with his hair, and he looked all the crazier for it. Minerva couldn't help but smile.

He grinned happily back, and his blue eyes twinkled happily. He said,

"Miss McGonagall, really, Bat-Bogey Hexes this early in the school year?" Minerva blushed and looked down in her lap,

"He insulted my friend Rolanda, sir." Dumbledore smiled kindly and said,

"I'm surprised any first years know that hex already. Have you been doing some extra reading?" Minerva smiled cautiously and said,

"Yes. Am I still in trouble?" Albus shook his head. He said,

"You may leave." Minerva rose and was just about to leave when she noticed something lying forlornly in the corner. She turned back to Dumbledore who was looking over the books and said,

"Professor? Do you know there's a sock over here?" Albus's face split into a wide grin and said,

"Ah-ha!" He ran over and snatched up the sock. He hugged it to his chest and said,

"Thank you, Minerva. Fawkes, my phoenix, became irritated when I forgot to feed him. In retaliation, he stole and hid my socks around the castle." Minerva looked at him in disbelief and said,

"He hid your socks?" Albus nodded,

"Isn't that horrid of him?" Minerva rolled her eyes, and Albus laughed. It was a rich sound, something you would have expected from Rubeus Hagrid. Minerva hesitated for a moment then joined in. Minerva waved,

"Good-bye sir. See you tomorrow." Albus waved after her. Fawkes flew in and landed on Albus's shoulder. Albus stroked his head and said,

"Fawkes, what has gotten into you? First you hid my socks then you don't attack a guest?" Fawkes cooed and bit his ear lightly. Albus grinned and said,

"So, now you can stand people?" Fawkes flew away and out the window.


	3. Giving Up

_Prompt #93- Give Up_

**Minerva's Point of View**

I'm sitting on the Astronomy Tower ledge. I'm sixteen years old, and an orphan. My parents are dead, and I have no siblings. I have no love. I have no friends. I love one man, but I'm not sure if he even likes me. I like to think he does, but that is an illusion. Everything I like to think he does is quite clearly just a trick of the mind. He doesn't like me. I'm letting my feet dangle over the thousand foot drop to the ground. I look around. It's a very pretty night. The moon is full, and the lake reflects it most beautifully. There is a light autumn breeze. It lightly touches my skirt edges, and they flutter a little bit. I look back down at the letter in my hand I already know it by heart. The funny thing is I think I knew it was coming. Just in that split second before I got it, I think I knew what it was. It still hurts as I read it now.

Dear Miss McGonagall,

We regret to inform you that you parents Katherine and Edward McGonagall have tragically been killed by Grindelwald. Please inform us when you are ready to go through the appropriate processes and the necessary procedures. We await your response.

Our condolences,

Arthur Hopkirk

Head of Auror Affairs

So impersonal. There's no substance there. They state it so baldly; I wonder if they even care. My parents were very good Aurors. The Ministry is undoubtedly more concerned with the death of them than they are with my sanity and life. I just keep on replaying through my head they way Mum would always just smile and laugh whenever I was foolish. They way Papa would always let me ramble on without bothering with clarification, and never judge me on what I said. They both loved me, but each in their own special way. And now there was no one to love me, or for me to love. It is a terrible thing to be alone. It is such a large feeling. I feel like I am once more another insignificant speck in the world. Like a small ant on the ground. I could die this very instant, and no one will care. I would just be carted off. No one would come to my funeral. Of that I am certain. I am just another smart student in my year. They must all run together for teachers over the years. I would bet that within a month of my death, the only reminder that I had ever lived would be just a few names on plaques. Death is a reprieve from life. A permanent vacation I intend to take with haste.

I stand up on the other side of the balcony. Just that little ledge standing between me and the soft air, followed by the hard ground. This castle is so old, if I stand here long enough the stone could crumble beneath my feet, and I would just fall anyway. Either way, it would be nice. To die with that feeling of flying. And if I hit the ground and the physical pain comes within a stone's distance of this immense emotion pain, I can always just use my secret weapon: Avada Kedavra. Just a single thought, a single spell, and I could have it all be over. Why, you may ask, don't I just use that in the first place? Well, I want to truly be with my parents. I miss them so much. It hurts so much. Not the warm pain when you scrape your knee. A much stronger pain, the cold kind of pain, the one that resides in the very marrow of your bones. Just a small twinge would make the strongest man fall and never want to rise. I can feel that pain now, shooting through me with all the sharpness of a new knife. I want to feel my parents' pain, so I can truly be their daughter. So they would be proud that I did not take the easy way out of life. Oh no, a McGonagall would never do such a thing. I want to suffer, to feel the life draining from my very bones.

I am still standing on the ledge. The breeze got a little cool. I shiver, and nearly fall. My arms immediately reach out to grasp the railing behind and I steady myself, and I wonder. Apparently my instincts haven't gotten the memo from my brain that death is welcomed. Now I have to think. If my instincts are still thinking I am supposed to live, does that mean that I will be able to die? Don't your instincts and brain have to agree to try to do something as monumental as die? I don't know. But I'm willing to find out. I step a little closer to the edge. Some pebbles crumble away and fall down until they are out of sight. I don't even hear them crackle onto the stone courtyard I know is there. Are my senses in agreement with my brain? Are they slowly starting to shut down? I hope they remain at peak performance until the very moment I breathe my last breath. I want the suffering to be the most acute, painful kind. Oh, the pain. The glorious, wonderful, alleviating pain!

I crouch slightly, letting my cat sense of balance flow through me. I jump up, and for a split moment, I feel like spreading my arms and laughing as I fall. Such relief it will be to fall, the wind whipping through my dark hair. To feel the sharply chilled air stinging at my eyes. Ah, what bliss! But my plans are falling and leaving me behind! Because I am not falling. I feel some warm arms around my waist, holding me up. They feel strong, for they do not tremble a bit. The security of those strong ties to life is scaring. I want them to let go! No, do not tether me here! I want to fall, to be free as I fall. My arms and legs flail about, and I scream, but I hear a whispering in my ear that stops me,

"Shush, Minerva. It's alright. It's okay. It's me."


	4. Last Hope

_Prompt #94- Last Hope_

**Albus's Point Of View**

Minerva hangs limp in my arms. Her black school robes look silky in the moonlight as it pours down on our melancholy scene. But if her robes are beautiful, her hair is absolutely resplendent. So smooth, so beautiful. It hangs about her face. I see what I know to be a tear but looks to be small diamond slip through the air and continue on its plummet to Earth. But all this beauty only adds to the despair of this place. Oh, how I have longed to able to put my arms around her waist, but if only not in such a situation! With some struggling, I manage to bring her slender body back over the railing, and set her down with her back resting against the stone columns of the railing. Tears are streaking down her face, but this is the only sign the she is alive. Her chest is noticeably still, and her eyes are closed. As the moonlight reflects off of the unshed tears on her eyelashes, I am once again stunned by her sad beauty.

I bring out the note that had floated down to me. I read it again, and am startled to find that I also am crying. I replace it in my pocket. I look to Minerva, and find her eyes have opened, and how open they are! They are so open that I can see that they are not just mundane, common eyes. They are emerald portals to such desolation, despair, and desperation that I feel my heart breaking just bearing witness to such a sad point in existence.

Minerva blinks at me, and another tear slides solemnly down her face. Her voice has rose in pitch a miniscule amount, but aside from that there is no difference as she says,

"I'm sorry Professor, but how did you know I was up here? I used Disillusion on my way up, and my scream was the first sound I made." Wordlessly, I pull the letter out again. I say,

"You dropped this." Minerva's eyes alight on the note, and her drying eyes fill again. This time I pull her close to my chest, and she sobs into my robes. Not sure what else to do, I hold her. Merlin, it feels good to hold her. Even if she is delirious with the emotional pain of death and the fright near-death must bring on, it still feels good that she is letting me hold her and not fighting to get away. At the thought of her leaving, I hold her even closer, afraid that I will crush her. But she holds me even tighter. I whisper into her ear,

"Shush, Minerva. It's okay. You're okay. Do you want to talk about it?" I feel her nod into my robes. She sobs into my robes as she says,

"Mum and Papa died. And no one likes me. No one loves me and I have no one to love." I am shocked by her words. Not only is she one of the more popular girls among her friends, she has been going steady with the same boy Tom Riddle for a few months. Which is most likely why I despise him. How dare he kiss my Minerva? One minutes, when did this 'my Minerva' business come around? Never mind that Albus. I grit my teeth and ask,

"But what about Mr. Riddle?" Minerva's sobs come even harder. She gasps out,

"I don't love him! I hate him! He's a lying killing bastard!" Though her tears are still streaming into my robes and I can't see her face, I know her face is morphing from despairing to infuriation. Though I feel for her pain, I also feel something in my gut jumping for joy. She doesn't love him! All the same, I murmur the mandatory words,

"I'm sorry." Minerva nods. She removes her head from my robes, and her eyes are red and puffy. There are black make-up streaks down her face. Mascara, I think. She raises her lovely long legs unsteady. I leap up alongside her, and help her inside. Just as we pass the Astronomy door, the foreboding clouds overhead begin weeping over the Earth and its immense sorrow. Minerva removes her arm from around me, and we begin walking with a respectful no-touching zone between us. I had hoped that perhaps in her desire to love, she would perhaps hold my hand. But I know now that my hopes were in vain, and had no basis of logic. Merely wishful thinking, I fear. I sneak a glance over at her, and find that she is holding her hand out. I smile at her, and she smiles back. I extend my hand, and we walk closely down the hall, our hands intertwined. Hers is small, and to my surprise, it possesses a strength I didn't know young women had. I had expected something small, fragile, and trembling. But I smile as I realize I should have known better. I have often found a person's handshake is representative of their personality. Minerva's is small, and yet very powerful. How very fitting.

And now we are at the Gryffindor Common Room. I know I must leave her, against my will. Before I think better of it and change my mind, I kiss Minerva on her cheek. She blushes and smiles. I say,

"Goodnight, Minerva." She leans over and kisses me on the lips. She pulls away and says,

"Goodnight Albus." I watch her go through the porthole with a final wave. As I make my way back to my rooms, I think of our kisses. I had indeed made the first move. But she had taken it a step farther. One wonderful, glorious step farther.

I walk into my room. Fawkes is there to greet me. I stroke his head and say,

"Fawkes, I have a job for you. I want you to go down the 6th year Gryffindor girl's dormitory. Make sure that Minerva stays in her dorm." I trust that she is alright, but I still want to be sure.

Minerva lay in her bed when she heard a quiet little _pop! _She opened one eye slightly, and saw a large red bird sitting on the window seat. She smiled, and sighed happily as she snuggled deeper under the covers.


	5. Out Cold

Minerva quietly lay in her bed. It was only a few days after her Stunner attack, and she was still confined to her hospital bed. Not that it made much difference, since she was unconscious anyway. As she lay there, there was a loud disturbance that would have woken the dead (and her, if not for her coma) as one Albus Dumbledore came running into the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey came out of her office, prepared to lecture some students about proper hospital etiquette, but the reprimand died in her throat at the sight of the now ex-Headmaster. His voice sounded normal, but his wild eyes betrayed his panic as he said,

"Where is she, Poppy?" Poppy ran to the curtained off area, Albus hot on her heels. She wrenched the curtains back, and there on the bed was Minerva. Albus's frantic eyes lost their wildness, replaced by somber fear and loss. He slowly walked around to the chair near Minerva's bed, and collapsed into it. It was shocking to him. Minerva was the one always full of fire, the one with the witty comeback and the seemingly effortless control. But now, now with her looking like Death itself, now she was broken and vulnerable. She was the one always running to do something else, the one who kept the students in check. The one who played chess with him, even when they both had more important (but less fun) things to do.

Put simply, she was the one.

Albus slipped her chilled hand in his, hardly noticing the tears that landed on their entwine hands. He knew if the situation was reversed, Minerva would be strong. She wouldn't be crying. She would sit there stoically and wait patiently for him to wake up. But Albus just wasn't Minerva.

Minerva's eyes fluttered beneath their lids, and Albus jumped. Would she wake up? He had his doubts, but he hoped. His hopes were in vain. It seemed she was dreaming. She turned over on her side facing away from Albus, and mumbled something. He moved over and around her bed in case she said it again. She groaned a bit, and murmured, "Albus…" she giggled lightly and said, "stop it!" Albus's worried visage was slowly smoothed with a gentle smile of relief,

"It's alright Albus. She's a fighter; she'll make it." Albus turned to Poppy and said,

"I know. She's beautiful even when she's sleeping, isn't she?" Poppy nodded, and placed a comforting hand on Albus's back. He grinned, leaned down and gave Minerva a chaste kiss on her forehead. He leaned down by her ear and whispered,

"I'll be back tomorrow." As Albus left, he could have sworn he saw her smile gently and whisper,

"Okay."

_(A/N: Hey people! I know I haven't posted in forever, and I would like to apologize for that. I have some stuff going on that I need to take care of, and this has been sitting on my hardrive since forever. Please forgive me or not updating! Reviews are welcome, though I don't blame you if you don't. Actually, I do, but I really can't do much about it. And I'm just too tired to care. But I'm still hoping for some flames! Here, have some Haterade *passes out the shot glasses* Down that shit people! It's for your own good! Please forgive me and review!)_


	6. Can You Hear Me?

Minerva was still unconscious. It had been almost 2 weeks, and at the end of the first, it had been decided that she had to be transferred to St. Mungo's for better monitoring. So she lay in her white sheets, her breathing regular and deep. A trainee Healer poked her head in to make sure Minerva was still there and unconscious, then left quickly to attend to something much more important like painting her nails. And then Minerva had another visitor. (A/N: 3 guesses who? )

Albus Dumbledore (A/N: and you did indeed guess right!) quietly swept into Minerva's room, his brilliant green robes making no noise as they slid across the stone floors. He conjured up a chair, and sat next to Minerva's bed, taking her hand in his. He kissed it lightly and said,

"Hello my dear. How are you? Well, of course you're doing well. You're breathing, and making progress, so you are doing astronomically well. I suppose you're still worried about the school. You would be too. Honestly, you're unconscious and came frightfully close to death, and you, of course, would just be worried about the school and whether or not Dolores was still terrorizing your cubs. I can tell you that yes, she is. Although she has met much resistance. You'd be proud of them. I've heard from some very reliable friends of mine—they are twins and have bright read hair, for your information -that school has developed a most frightening epidemic of Umbridgitis. As soon as she enters the room, children start fainting, regurgitating, and a whole range of other unpleasant maladies to get them out of class. Ah, Minerva. It is something you would have done in your day if any of your teachers had acted as Dolores; I have no doubt about that.

"The staff is doing quite alright, although Severus is much more irritable without you. Apparently your debates are the only thing that keeps his perhaps less than pleasant personality in check. He has gone from mildly dour at times to downright irate," Albus chuckled, "I don't envy his students." Minerva rolled over to face Albus's voice, and he couldn't stop himself from gently stroking her pale cheek. Despite her lack of alertness, she still blushed lightly. Albus smiled, kissed her lips tenderly, whispered, "I'll see you soon dear," and left.


End file.
